Come Sail Away
by Little Red Rose on the Valley
Summary: ILB/Tomoichi Sato x MC; Imogen Wescott x MC. As Tom prepares for a job at the Wescott boat, he is startled by a mysterious presence.


It was a beautiful summer day in Pine Springs. The sun shone above them, the wind blew softly and the water was still and just cold enough for a nice swim. If they were allowed to do such things, that is.

Tom, who had only just been called for a house call, or boat call, that is, felt the waste of a perfectly good slow day with particular sting. The Wescott boat stopped working this morning, and Imogen was ready to kick it back into working condition when she called him.

So, one could find him setting his tools and parts into his boss' motorboat. If nothing else, the job was good money, and he could use some of that when fall came again and he returned to college.

He was about to start the boat, whistling to some pop song tune, when he is startled by the soft voice coming from behind him: "Hello! What's your name?"

He lets out a small shout of surprise as he turns around and sees her. A young woman, dressed in lacy long skirt and coat, over a brightly coloured t-shirt. Her blond, curly hair was tied into a loose ponytail, and in her bosom rested a small jade ring, held by a black, rope chain.

She chuckles at his outburst. "Sorry, did I startle you? I seem to do this a lot."

"No! No, of course not." He stumbles on his words, but try to smile it off. "I am Tomoichi Sato. Nice to meet you!"

"Petra Novak, pleased to make your acquaintance." She smiles and offers her hand for him to shake. "Say, are you off sailing now?"

"Yes, I'm crossing the lake to the marina on the other side. Why?" He raises his eyebrow in inquiry.

"Well, you see, I'm from out of town and my camper broke down on the other shore. I needed a replacement part, and someone has been kind enough to bring me to town. However, now I'm in need of some assistance once more, I need a ride to get to the other side of the lake. Would you be able to take me?"

"Oh!" He breathes out in understanding.

He seemed rather reluctant, so she insists, "I can guarantee to you that the only thing I'm packing is my meagre wallet and a valve. I am only a harmless damsel in distress."

Tom looked at her appraisingly. She certainly seemed pretty inoffensive, and by the looks of it, has been looking for a way across the lake for a while. "Sure, if you don't mind the moss and the smell of rotten fish. Hop on in, there's a spare life vest on the seat."

"Oh, thank you, Tom. You're a lifesaver!" She beamed at him and put on the life vest.

With Petra sufficiently protected, Tom started the motor and they sail away from the small pier.

A few minutes into the journey, as she plays with her hand in the water, the blonde turns around and ask him, "Hey, Tom? What are you doing on the other shore?"

"Didn't the motor grease tip you off?" He asks, well-humoured.

The blonde smiles cheeky in return. "It did, but I would not want to assume."

"I'm a mechanic, from the boat shop in town. I'm on my way to check on a boat right now." He responded, rather simple, yet not exactly circumspect. "If you'd like, I can check you car, too."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to waste your time with such a simple fix." She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "It is such a beautiful day, I would feel terrible to keep you from enjoying it."

"You wound me! To say it's going to take the whole day. It is no bother at all!" He reiterates, with a tint of nervousness. "I insist. After all, we don't get many visitors around here. We should treat you well."

She chuckles, but does not say anything, as they soon docked at the luxurious marina. In effect, the poor motorboat was sensibly dislocated amongst the expansive, superfluous yachts anchored around them.

Tom jumps off board first and offers Petra a helpful hand, who accepts with a soft touch.

"Come, it shouldn't be long at the Wescotts'." Tom says, pointing lazily at the general direction of a large yacht named _The Empress_. "Afterwards, we'll take a look at your camper."

Before Petra could deny him again, they hear a shrill voice coming from the end of the pier.

"It took you long enough, Tomoichi!" It shouts.

"Imogen, not even my mom call me Tomoichi." He points out, with a grimace on his face.

"Fix my boat and I'll think about stopping!" She counters, and then she notes his companion. "Oh, hello. I didn't see you there. I'm Imogen, you?"

The blonde smiles in greeting. "I'm Petra."

"She's a tourist." Tom commented, as he picks up the toolbox.

"I see myself as more of a wanderer, actually." The blonde comments, offhandedly. "I don't sightsee, I discover."

"Ooh, poetic! In any case, it is nice to meet you!" She responds, smiling animatedly. "Please, come on board. Tom, you know where everything is, right?"

"Better than you, probably." He points out.

"Well, you're not wrong." She responds while they walk up the ramp aboard _The Empress_. "So, Petra, can I get you anything?"

"A glass of water would be swell." She smiled.

"I'll be back in a minute." Imogen responds, with a sing-song voice, while Tom walks down to the engine room.

Petra, herself, turns her attentions to the great body of water in front of her, feeling the wind slowing down suddenly, giving place to a cold and wet breeze tickling her cheek.

Soon, a white, thick fog starts to form on the centre of the lake, as if the heavy breathing of an enormous beast. Soon enough, it covers the entire dark surface, hiding the shores and the other boats from view.

"I am never going to get used to those monsters." A voice came from behind her, as she turns around to address. "It looks like a spaceship engine down there! Hey, where's Imogen?"

Petra points out the one-percenter dragging a small cooler behind her. "Refreshments! I didn't know what you would like, Tom, so I brought an assortment. Damn!" She exclaims, mid-sentence. "Fog? Now? I have a party tonight!"

"I'm sure the wind will be shifting soon." Petra assured her, a hand on her shoulder. "The night sky should be as starry as they come."

"Hope you're right…" She groans. "So, Tom, what's wrong with the engine?"

"Well…" His tone is grief-stricken. "It looks like the primary core matrix has fallen out of alignment. That means all the flux crystals are going to need to be individually re-calibrated. And don't even get me started on the tuning webs. How long since you strung those?"

Petra holds her laughter while sipping on her water bottle, as Imogen stares incredulous at Tom.

"I'm not _that_ naïve." She states, haughtily. "The truth now, please."

He shrugged. "It was worth a shot. You only got some water in the fuel line, it should be an easy fix."

"Oh, thank God!" She squealed and hugged the other two.

"You're welcome, my child, and I forgive your blasphemy." Tom responds and is scolded by a slap from Imogen.

"Jerk!" She complains. "So, Petra, what do you do?"

"For a living, you mean?" The blonde asks and the brunette nods. "Everything, actually. I've done all sorts of odd jobs. My main source of income, however, is cartomancy."

"Oh, really?!" Imogen's eyes widen in excitement. "Oh, you've got to give me a reading!"

"I'm sorry, but I seem to have left my deck at my camper…" Petra excuses herself.

"Aw!" Imogen bemoans. "I'd love to know my future."

"Well, there is something I could do, but I cannot guarantee it will be your future I will see." She offers.

The girl sports a big grin at the suggestion. "Oh, do it, do it!"

"Very well." Petra extends both of her lower arms in front of her and opens her hands. "Place your hands above mine."

Imogen does as required and Petra closes her eyes. Suddenly, the cold wind picks up and the fog thickens.

Tom looks at them warily. "It sure got cold fast here…"

"Do you know what the name 'Imogen' stands for?" Petra asks.

The other girl shakes her head. "No, not really. I know it's Shakespeare."

"Yes, that is correct, she is a character in _Cymbeline_." She comments. "It comes from the Celts, and it means maiden or young girl. Names are powerful things, they influence our lives and our personalities. I believe that is where you draw your youthfulness from."

"Childishness, you mean." Tom comments, and Imogen glares at him.

"I see something…" The blonde announces, suddenly. "Better yet, some _one_."

"Ooh!" She gasps. "Is it the one I'm going to marry?"

The future-teller chuckles. "No, but I feel like many people have suggested it already. He is not your type, though."

"You're not driving a sell here, Petra." The rich girl points out.

She chuckles. "It is as it is. And, in any case, it is not like you don't care for him, you care for him very much. You love him, you just don't love him in that particular way."

"Oh, I think I know who that is!" She says, excitedly. "What does he looks like?"

"Hm, let me see…" Petra concentrates on the image. "He is not tall, he should be about as tall as me, a little more perhaps. He has short hair and green eyes... an olive complexion, that is for sure."

"Oh, that's him! That's Kyle!" Imogen hops from one leg to the other. "He is my bestest friend! What is he doing?"

"I can't see clearly, but…" She breathes out. "You will not be seeing him again for a long time, and it will be soon. You should hug him tightly the next time you see him."

The other girl beams. "He said he applied for an European exchange program, he might have been accepted!"

Petra lets go of her hand. "That's all I can see."

"So cool!" Imogen then turns to Tom. "You gotta try it!"

The idea seemed to upset him. "Me? No, no, that's not my cup of tea."

His patron, however, was unmoved. "Come on! She guessed about Kyle! She might predict something interesting about you too."

Tom was honestly a little incredulous about the so-called powers of their companion, but even if they were real, he had his fill with the supernatural. He did not want to mess with anything like it ever again.

"If he doesn't want to do it, it is better if we don't force him." The blonde chimed in. "I'd probably wouldn't see a thing, his stubbornness and mistrust wouldn't let me see a thing."

That sounded charlatan talk to his ears, and he would feel better if he debunked her esoteric aura. "No, no, colour me intrigued. I want to do it."

"Very well, then." She extended her hands once more. "Like Imogen, please."

He complied and placed his hands on top of hers. Her skin was soft and warm, but he could not feel at ease with the feeling, as soon enough, the weather changes again. He feels a slithery sensation wrap around his arms.

Feeling uncomfortable, he turns to humour. "So, are you going to tell me about my name, now?"

"Would you like me to?" She questions. "It serves as a trigger. My objective here is to peer into your soul, so I procure words that have deep emotional meaning to the one I'm reading."

"Imogen likes her own name that much?" He asks, incredulous.

Petra shook her head. "No, for her it was nothing I said. It was 'childish'. From that, came childhood, and childhood friend. The mind is one strange thing."

Tom realizes what she was saying as soon as she speaks the word 'mind'. The slithering feeling on his arm grows warm and extends to his neck.

Whatever Petra is, Tom does not doubt her powers any longer.

"I am seeing something." She announces, but he already knew. He knew what she was seeing. "It is a forest. There are a few children there… eight, I think. They shouldn't be here… Go home… He is coming! Oh my God!"

Tom takes his hands away from hers. "I think I heard enough."

Petra looks at him, but soon recomposes herself and places that cryptic smile back on her face. "I suppose you are right."

"What did you see?" Imogen asks, concern ringing deep into her voice.

"Just a nightmare he had yesterday." She responds, not once breaking eye contact with Tom, as if they were conspirators. "Anyways, it is getting late, and I have to find a good place to set up camp tonight."

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Imogen pleads. "I'd love if the two of you would attend my party tonight."

"Yeah, Petra, I said I'd be happy to fix your car for you. If you wait half an hour, I'll be done here." Tom said, in spite of the scare.

"Don't you worry about me, I'll be okay." She smiled widely, and then turned to Imogen. "Have a nice party, I'm sure you'll remember it for years to come."

Before either of them could say anything else, Petra walks down the ramp to the deck and disappears through the fog.

Later that night, when Kyle jumps overboard to his watery grave, both Tom and Imogen remember the ominous words Petra had said, that she would not see Kyle again for a long time.

There was something powerful about that woman, and they could not help but be fascinated about it.


End file.
